


Babyvamp Blues

by Overdressedtokill (SkyeStan)



Series: Vamps AU [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 06:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2955227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyeStan/pseuds/Overdressedtokill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How much damage could it do, getting Skye new clothes?  Not a lot.  Not yet.  But it gets bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Babyvamp Blues

Skye sleeps soundly through the day, and Grant’s grateful for that.

He lays beside her until the sun rises, his arm against her side.  There’s still a distance between them, and he’s glad.  He’ll protect her, but he doesn’t want her to think he’s preying on her.  He wouldn’t.  But she has no reason to trust that yet.

Around 7 AM, when Grant’s sure he won’t be able to rest, not even on his couch, he sets out making the place more Skye-friendly.  He cleans all of the dirt out of the shower, gathers up her discarded clothes.

He’s folding the dirty remains of her jeans when he realizes she has nothing to wear but his clothes.

And then he thinks about how she looks in his tee shirt, and he has to put his hand over his mouth, for a moment.  Not that she could see him, or know that she could elicit this kind of reaction, but still.  It’s embarrassing.

Her clothes still have the tags on them, so with a bit of maneuvering he finds out her sizes.  He doesn’t want to know her cup size or her underwear size, but he also doesn’t want her to be forced to go around without undergarments.  He hopes she won’t mind too much.

Then he gathers all of them in a black garbage bag and places them under the sink, in case she still wants them.  They’re pretty near unsalvageable, but if she really can’t part with them, he’ll try to make them wearable again.

He’s good with blood stains, to say the least.

  
  


He’s only a little surprised when she emerges from his room just minutes after sundown.  Grant had just expected her to rest longer.  Maybe for 24 hours.  He doesn’t actually know what he’s talking about, but that’s what he had assumed.

“So are we going out or what?” Skye asks, coming out of his bedroom and stretching her arms.  Her hair’s messy, all fluffy and wild, and she’d stayed in his pajamas all day.  Not that he’d expected her to take them off.  But he hadn’t been sure if she’d liked them, or if she’d just been wearing them to make him happy.

But she looks cozy.  She looks at peace.  And she looks better than she did 24 hours ago.  She looks good enough, actually, that he has forgotten her question.

“Grant,” she says.  “I’m hungry.”

“Oh,” he says.  “Well, you know, there’s blood in the fridge so-”

She groans.  “Grant,” she says.  “I hate that stuff.  I want to go out.”

“You’ve barely tried it,” Grant reminds her, as politely as he can.  “Besides.  We don’t need to go out.  There’s a documentary about World War I on the History Channel and-”

She groans again, louder this time.  More dramatic. 

“What?” he asks.

“You have the entire night at your disposal,” Skye says.  “You can lift cars and run so fast you practically teleport and fucking read minds.”

Grant almost feels ashamed of himself.  “Well I can’t run that fa-”

“You are so boring!” Skye says.  “I did not get made into a vampire to be boring for all eternity.”

Okay, so maybe he is actually ashamed of himself.  And a little hurt, to be honest.  “I made you a vampire to save your life,” he says.  “And whatever your lifestyle was before this-” He tosses his hands into the air.  Shrugs.  “There’s nothing I can do.”

She crosses her arms.  “You can take me out.”

He decides he’s not going to humor this.  She’s petulant and childish and he’s not having this argument with her.  “I’m not taking you out.”

“Then I’ll go out on my own.”

He glances at her from the corner of his eye.  “Don’t test my patience, Skye.”

She huffs.  “You’re testing mine,” she retorts.  “Unless you compel me and make me love the idea of living in a tiny bedroom with only you to keep me company, I’m going to be miserable.  I need people, Grant.”

“Yeah?” Grant says, tossing the remote into the cushions of his couch.  “And what are you going to do when you kill them?”

“I’m not going to kill anyone!” she insists.

“You are a baby vampire,” Grant says.  “All you know how to do is kill people.”

“So teach me not to,” Skye says, throwing her arms out.  “Holy fuck, Grant! You have to teach babies how to do shit.  I’m your responsibility.  You can’t just make me and then drop me off at St. Agnes.”

He sighs, and turns to look at her.  “St. Agnes?”

“Don’t even ask,” Skye says.  He ignores the way his cotton shirt stretches over her breasts when she crosses her arms.  And he definitely ignores the very visible fact that she’s not wearing a bra.

“I don’t want you getting hurt,” he says.  “If you drain someone, people are going to come after you.”

“That would make it the second night in a row, then,” Skye says.  “You can teach me how not to kill someone.  You saved that waitress.  You saved me, for fuck’s sake.”  She’s got such large, pleading eyes.  Even the hunger burning there, dark and dangerous, doesn’t deter him,

“One night,” he says.  “I will take you out tonight.  But then we need to make a plan for the future.”

She breaks into a grin.  “Yes!” she says, and she’s suddenly in front of him, wrapping her arms around his neck.  “Oh my God, I was going to die of boredom.”  Her breasts press flush against his chest.  He resists the urge to sigh, to shift her onto his lap.  Crap.  Shit.  He hasn’t had thoughts like that in ages, and they’re completely inappropriate.  He barely knows her.  He’s offering her his protection.  It doesn’t matter how soft her chest is.  

“You have to do what I say,” he says, interrupting his own thoughts.  She drops her arms, and he feels like he can breathe again.  If he still breathed.  “I pick where we go and who you eat.  And how much.”

“Okay,” Skye says, and she’s agreeing but he doubts it will really be that easy.  “Sure.  Let’s do it.”

He smiles back at her, despite himself. 

  
  


She breaks his gaze and tugs on his shirt, just once.  The realization seems to hit them both at once.

“I have no clothes,” Skye says, as Grant stares back at her.  “I can’t go out in your pajamas.”

“I’ll go buy you something,” Grant offers.

“You don’t know my sizes.”

He doesn’t answer quickly enough.

Skye realizes then that her clothes are gone. “Grant Ward!” she says.  “You’re such a perv!”

“I wasn’t- It was so-” He gives up. “But I can go get you clothes now, so…”

Skye rubs at her arm, at his shirt sleeve that hangs too low on her bicep.  “I don’t want to be left alone,” she says.

He wonders if he should try to reassuringly touch her, or something.  That’s what he should do, right?  He gently places his fingers on her forearm.  “I won’t leave you, then,” he says.  “We can order clothes for you online.”

“But then I won’t get to go out until they get here,” Skye says.  “That’s a whole night locked up!”

Grant frowns.  “It’s not so bad.”

She brushes off his hand, crosses her arms.  “I want to go out tonight,” she says.  “Can’t you like, compel a neighbor to lend me some clothes?”

“I don’t do that, Skye,” he says.

Her eyes are so big.  So pleading.  She’s sucking him in, drawing all his attention.  “Please?” she says.  “Just one outfit.  Just this once.  We’ll go to the mall first thing!  And then I’ll return the clothes tomorrow!”

It would just be the once.  He knows his neighbors well enough, too.  Not out of friendliness, really.  More of a precaution, to make sure no one’s going to come after him, but still.  He knows who lives where.  “I’m never doing it again, Skye,” he says.  “You’re borrowing something inexpensive, and you are washing it before you return it.”

She breaks into a grin more lively than anything he’s seen in the past several decades.  “Thank you thank you thank you!” she says, leaping on him.

Another hug in the span of 30 minutes.  Is this what it feels like to be happy?

He clears his throat, waits for her arms to set him free.  “So, um,” he says.  “You’re going to need to follow my lead.”

“No problem,” Skye says.  He should note that she’s only agreeable when he’s doing what she wants, but she’s so cute and kind and she’s his progeny.  It’s his job to keep her happy.

He takes her hand without thinking about it, and she doesn’t pull away.  “I know just the person,” he says.

  
  


The woman in 203 asked Grant out once.  He’d smiled as awkwardly as physically possible, and politely declined.  She didn’t hold it against him, which is nice.  He can still hear her heartbeat pickup whenever he’s near her, though.

He doesn’t understand it, to be honest.  He’s gangly and pale and hits his head on doorways.  She’s a very pretty woman that jogs and makes her own salsa.  It would never work out.

But unfortunately for every party involved, she’s just around Skye’s size.  He hates himself.  He hates himself a lot.

“Wait by this side of her door,” Grant says.  “You won’t be able to go in until I invite you.”

“And you don’t want her to know you’ve got a girl living with you,” Skye says.  

Grant looks over to her.  “That’s not-”

“You’re nervous,” Skye says.  “If you could sweat, you would be.”

“I feel guilty, is all,” Grant says.

Skye shrugs.  “Sometimes you have to steal.”

There’s something knowing there, and he should ask about it.  He should know what she’s hiding.  But it might be rude to ask.

“We’re not stealing,” he says, voice dropping as they approach door 203.  “We’re borrowing.”

Skye smirks at him.  Almost bitterly.  “That’s what I used to say, too.”

He’ll ask later.  He has to ask later.  Skye takes her place against the wall.  He recognizes the look that forms on her face.  She’s casing the hallway.  The doors.

She’s robbed people before.  His little progeny has done more than just steal from stores, hasn’t she?

“Knock,” Skye hisses, impatient.  “Come on.”

He does.  “Hey,” he calls.  “It’s Grant.  Got a minute?”

  
  


The door to 203 opens faster than Grant feels comfortable with.  And there’s the occupant, grinning.

“Grant!” she says.  “Hi!”

He swallows.  For his progeny.  For Skye.  “Hey,” he says.  He pauses, waits for her to lock eyes with him.  He hates himself.  He’s going to hell.  When he finally dies for real, he is going to hell.  But he knows what he’s doing, at least.  “Invite me in.”  He sounds disgusting.  He is disgusting.  “Please,” he adds.

“Come in,” she says, smile still in place.  

“Okay,” Grant says, mostly to himself.  One step into the threshold.  “Now I need you to listen to me.  I am going to invite someone else in.  You will not notice her at all.  As soon as I invite her in, you won’t notice me, either.  After we leave, you will forget completely that I ever knocked on your door.  If someone says they saw us, you will make an excuse, but you won’t think too hard about it.  Nod if you understand.”

She nods.  Grant feels ill.  Sickened with himself, mostly. 

“Skye,” he says, breaking his gaze.  “Come in.”

“Holy shit,” Skye says, watching as the woman goes back to watching TV.  “Would she notice if I bit her?”

“Skye!” Grant says.  “No.  She’s doing enough already.”

Skye just sighs at him, rolls her shoulders back.  “But I could smell her the second she opened the door,” Skye says.  “I’m hungry.”

“Go get dressed,” Grant says.  “You’re not drinking her.”

Skye pouts.  “Fine,” she says.  She makes a point of dragging her feet like they’re suddenly too heavy to move.

“Skye,” he warns.

“Ugh,” Skye says.  “Whatever.”  She resumes her normal pace, and is soon pulling out drawers, rifling through clothes.  “Can I take something nice?”

“No,” Grant says.  “Nothing valuable.”

“Well,” Skye says, pulling out a bra.  “It’s a little big, but it’ll do.  I’ll take a dress and just…not do underwear until you buy me some.  From a pre-sealed set.”

“You know you can’t catch anything now, don’t you?” he says.  “And also, that’s not how most STIs carry.  In fact-”

Skye’s looking at him weird.  “Okay, Sex Ed.  Wow.”

“I watch a lot of TV,” Grant says, like that helps.

Skye just rolls her eyes at him, and digs around until she finds an inexpensive cotton dress.  “There,” she says.  “The most boring piece of clothing possible.”

“It’s nice,” Grant says.  “Simple.”

Skye reaches for the hem of her shirt, out of nowhere.  She’s going to do that right now?  Right here?

“What are you doing?” Grant asks, far too quickly.

Skye looks at him like she’s so completely done with him.  “Getting changed,” she says.

“Here?”

“Yeah,” Skye says.  “I like your pajamas, but I’d like to put some new clothes on.”

“But I’m in the room,” Grant says.

“Oh,” Skye says.  “You can leave, if you want.”

He doesn’t want to leave. He’s burning with curiosity, actually.  He’s pretty sure the sight of Skye naked might actually, actually kill him.

He should probably leave. He looks around the room first, just to double check that there isn’t a nanny-cam anywhere, or something.  “Take the flats by the door.”

“They look big,” Skye says, which earns her a look.  “But I guess I’ll stuff the toes with toilet paper until I get new shoes, or whatever.”

“Good,” Grant says.  “After you’ve changed, refold the clothes and put them away.”

Skye scoffs.  “Seriously?”

“You’re a guest here,” Grant says.  “And you’re borrowing clothes.  Be polite.”

Skye frowns at him as he closes the door.  He goes back to the couch, meets the woman’s gaze again.  “Hey,” he says.  “Just one more thing.  You have a light pink bra and a white dress with pink flowers, right?  And pink flats?”  She nods.  He runs a hand through his hair.  He stares at her, and keeps going.  “Forget you owned them.  Okay?”  Another nod.  Grant smiles at her, and pats her on the shoulder.  “I’m sorry,” he says. Which doesn’t matter, because she can’t hear him.  Hopefully, he’ll be able to return the dress and the bra anyway.  But he also doesn’t trust Skye to take proper care of them.

“Skye,” he calls.  “Did you clean up?”

“Yes,” she replies.

A pause.

“Skye,” he says, putting his hand on the doorknob.  “If I find you going through her jewelry, I’m going to be very-”

She practically knocks his teeth out when she slams the door open.  Well.  She can’t actually knock out his teeth, but he does get smacked in the face nonetheless.  “Let’s go,” Skye says.

“You folded the clothes?” Grant asks.

“Mm-hm,” Skye says, giving on last longing stare in the direction of the couch.

“Really?”

“Super-speed at night,” Skye reminds him.  “It took like, thirty seconds.”

“You didn’t steal anything?” he asks.  He hates himself for it, but he can’t let Skye steal anything unnecessary.

She glares at him.  “I don’t like your tone,” she snaps.

He doesn’t back down.  With a sigh, she reaches into her dress and pulls a gold ring from her borrowed bra.  “Here,” she says, pressing it into his hand.

“I’m not trying to punish you,” he says.  “I’ll get you your own rings.”

She pauses.  “Wait,” she says.  “Wait, I just put this together.  You want to spend money on me,” Skye says.

“That’s the plan, yes,” Grant says.

“You’re not just gonna take the clothes.  You’re going to buy them.”

“Yes,” Grant says.  He’s worried about the look on her face.  “Why? Is that wrong?”

“What do you want from me, Grant?” she says.  “Really?”

He takes a step back.  He has to.  He wants to leave the apartment, but they’re sure as hell not doing this in the hallway.  “I want you to be happy and safe,” he says.

“You made me into a vampire,” Skye says.  “You gave me your bed.  Now you’re going to spend money on me.”

“Skye,” he says.  “I’m never, ever going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.  I’m never going to hold anything against you.  I made the decision to make you into a vampire, and I am going to be fully responsible for you.”

“Forever?” Skye says.

“Until we actually die,” Grant promises.

She softens.  Visibly softens, and almost smiles.  “Okay,” Skye says.  “But remember that you promised.”

“I’ll never forget,” he says.

“Okay,” Skye decides.  She’s so beautiful, smiling at him.  She’s beautiful all the time, but when she smiles at him, it changes his entire world.  His entire universe really has been re-centered around her.  “Then um, maybe we should put your clothes away downstairs and head out?”

He finds himself smiling back, despite the guilt that Skye’s happiness seems to be ebbing away.  If it’s for Skye, he can excuse it.  Anything for her.  “Sounds good.”

  
  


“So this is your car,” Skye says.  “It’s exactly what I expected.”

Grant stares at his tiny, green Honda and can only shake his head.  “It was a gift.”

“From whom?” Skye asks, climbing into the car.

“It’s a long story,” he says.

“We have time,” she retorts.

“It’s not important,” he says.

“Okay then,” Skye says.  She leans back in the seat, rests her feet on the dashboard.  “You just don’t want to admit you bought this stupid thing.”

“It’s not a stupid thing,” he says, pushing her feet off the dash.  “And it was a gift.”

“It’s so dorky!” she says.  “Which again, exactly what I expected.”

“You know, this is the car the both of us are gonna be using for a while,” he says.  “So you should probably be nice to it.”

Skye slumps in her seat, arms crossed.  “Ugh,” she says.  “At least turn on the radio.”

She frowns more deeply when the music comes on.  So she leans forward and flips through the channels without asking.  “Boring,” she says.  

“What’s wrong with NPR?” Grant asks.

She gives him a disparaging glance and continues.  “Boring.”

“And you don’t like classical,” he says.

She ignores him, and flips to the next one.  A news station.  She sighs. “Lame.”  She gets to the last one.  A smirk tugs at her lips.  “Is this a country station?”

If he could blush, he could.  He should not be embarrassed by her.  “Just scan the channels,” he says.

“It’s fine,” Skye says, leaving the country music on.  “My ex listened to country ‘ironically.’”

He makes note of her air quotes.  “How do you listen to country ironically?” he asks.  He’s very proud of himself for not blurting out ‘what ex boyfriend?’ Though he might, at some later point.

“I have no idea,” Skye says.  “But I still find it weirdly relaxing, sometimes.”

“You’re nervous?” he asks.

“We’re going to a place full of warm bodies,” she says.  “Warm, delicious bodies.”

“You know you were one of those less than 24 hours ago,” he says.

She tosses her hair over her shoulder.  “Semantics,” she replies.

It had been something he’d struggled with, in his baby vamp years.  But not Skye.  She’s nothing like him.  And he’s mostly glad.

“I won’t let you hurt anyone,” he says.  He stares at the road.  “I mean, you’re not going to hurt anyone.  You’re self-aware and smart.  You can control yourself.”

She’s resting her cheek against the back of the headrest, staring.  “Do you really believe that?”

“Yes,” he says.

“What if I can’t?” she asks.

“Then I’ll handle it,” Grant says.  “You’re in no danger, here.”

Her hand is on his knee.  She squeezes.  “Thank you,” she says.  Her hand leaves his leg.

“Of course,” he says.  “Besides.  It’s the mall.  How bad can it really get?”

He’ll regret saying that.  But he doesn’t know that, yet.  Not even when a little chill runs down his spine.

He’s not paying attention to anything but Skye.

  
  


An hour in, he realizes that this is perhaps more than he anticipated.

Skye’s voracious.  Grant’s not sure if she’s ever been shopping with real money before, and that just means he feels like he has to buy her even more.

He’s got plenty saved up.  More than plenty.  His parents died a long time ago and his inheritance had been invested wisely.

He could buy her Chanel, if she wanted.  But she seems content to go to the more inexpensive stores.  She hasn’t even asked about Bloomingdales, actually.  He’s not sure if he’s surprised or not.  She seems like she likes nice things.  But maybe ‘nice’ means something different between the two of them.  Not that he has any issue with what she’s buying!  Well.  She’s buying a lot of shorts and short dresses, and that’s her right.  But he’s going to have to train himself not to stare.

He loves the sight of her, he’s realized.  Which is not her problem.  It’s his.

Above all else, he wants her to be happy.  Whether in a department store or Forever 21.

“Skye,” he says, and he’s carrying all her bags without her even asking.  “I think this might be enough for the season.”

She turns around, stands halfway between him and the mall directory.  “I just need a couple more bras,” she says.  “And maybe some accessories.  And then you promised me dinner, remember?”

Ah.  Dinner.  How could he forget?  That creeping dread he’d been feeling.  He has to teach her.  He has to, but he really, really doesn’t want to.  Actually learning to feed changes a person.  It’s an understanding of what you have to do to survive.  He studies Skye’s bouncing hair as she leads him down the brightly-lit corridors of the mall.  He doesn’t want her to know.  It’s so ugly and cruel and cold.

But it’s a necessity.  And she didn’t seem to care about humans too much, anyway.  Maybe it wouldn’t bother her.

He can’t shake that sense of dread, though.  Especially when she pulls him into a store, far more crowded than he’d like.

  
  


It reeks.  Of perfume, of people, of excitement and self-loathing.  “Skye,” he says, reaching for her hand.  “Skye!”  More urgently than he’d intended.  This is weird.  He’s never been claustrophobic.  He couldn’t afford to be.

She stops.  Notices he’s reaching for her.  “Something wrong?”

“It smells in here,” he offers.

She wrinkles her nose. “Yeah,” she says.  “But the perfume masks the-” She looks around.  “Well, you know.”

“I think we should go,” he says, suddenly.  “I know a nice bar, we can go eat.”

She studies his face.  “What’s going on, Grant?” she says.  “Do you see something?”

“I-” He stops.  “I don’t know.”

Skye draws her lips into a line.  “Okay,” she says.  “Let’s go.  I got some bras already.  I’ll buy the rest online.”  She wraps her hand over his.

The smell is getting stronger.  Why is there so much perfume in this store?

“Excuse me,” someone asks, tapping his shoulder.  “Can I help you and your girlfriend find something?”

He turns to say ‘No thank you-’

  
  


And is putting Skye’s bags in the trunk of his car.  He blinks.

“Skye?” he asks, suddenly looking to his side.  Where she had been standing, just a second ago, a literal second.  He turns around.  “Skye?”

It’s just him and the mall parking lot.  They had been in the underwear store.  He wracks his brain, trying to think.  Had she asked him to put her bags in the car?

He doesn’t remember anything.  There’s just a gap.

Don’t panic.  Do not panic.  She’s his progeny.  If he just thinks, if he just feels for her, somewhere, the feeling of his blood in her veins-

Nothing.

Which is impossible.  He can’t feel nothing.  If she were dead, he’d feel that.

Nothing is a red flag.  Nothing means she’s hiding.

Or.  That someone or something is hiding her from him.

The sudden memory gap.  The cloaking.

Someone kidnapped his progeny.  And didn’t bother to hide it.  Someone had been following them, and he hadn’t noticed.

He always noticed.  Why hadn’t he noticed?  What had taken his progeny away?

Someone good.  Someone older and better than he was.  Someone who didn’t care that he would figure out what had happened, and quickly. 

This is bad.  This is so bad.  They should’ve stayed in, where no one could hurt her.  He’s her maker.  He’s supposed to take care of her.

Why her?  Why his progeny?  All his enemies were long dead.  Right?

He’s not scared.  He isn’t.  He can’t afford to be scared when he needs to be furious instead.

Not at Skye.  Never at Skye.  But someone took her.  And they will get the entirely of Grant’s wrath.

He hasn’t let himself be angry in so long.

But when he finds who took his progeny, he’s not even going to ask why.  He’s going to get Skye to safety, and then-

And then he’s going to rip someone’s throat out.


End file.
